


I hate moths

by Pancakesandsugar



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bromance, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Compliant, Ella Lopez Feels, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Lucifer, Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer Morningstar & Ella Lopez Bonding, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Devil Reveal, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Whump, Male-Female Friendship, Michael feels, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 05, Protective Lucifer, Season/Series 05, Spoilers, at least until part b
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26037127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pancakesandsugar/pseuds/Pancakesandsugar
Summary: Summary: *** Immediately post-series 5A, so !!! S P O I L E R S !!!! if you haven’t binge watched the entire thing yet! ***------------------------------Dad turning up was unexpected.In which Lucifer tries to fix everything. And likely fixes very little.
Relationships: Amenadiel & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Ella Lopez & Lucifer Morningstar, Ella Lopez & Michael, Linda Martin & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Potential Ella Lopez/Michael
Comments: 126
Kudos: 403





	1. there's a moth on my wall and i don't like it

**Author's Note:**

> Think of this story more as interconnected oneshots than as a welded story :) I'm notoriously bad at updating, though I have many ideas and a week to get them all out before I'm back to work, so who knows? Might actually make a story of this.
> 
> Also please tell me if I made any mistakes. It's 3am right now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: *** Immediately post-series 5A, so SPOILERS if you haven’t binge watched the entire thing yet! ***
> 
> Dad turning up was unexpected.  
> -  
> In which Lucifer tries to fix everything. And likely fixes very little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 26/08/20: Minor tense changed and added descriptors. No necessary plot information had been added.

_“Dad?”_ Lucifer squinted as the bright light of LA’s sunset streamed through the precinct’s glass windows, and- oh yes, his father’s _Godly_ aura, blinded him. A heavy silence followed; his brothers likely equally dumbfounded by the image before them.

“What in the bloody hell are _you_ doing here?” Lucifer balked.

“Now, Samael.” A deep frown immediately marred the Devil’s features at the moniker. “Is that any way to greet your Father?” God voiced; the deep heavenly timber rumbled through Lucifer’s ears like some kind of post-pubescent mosquito.

“Do **not** call me that,” he spat.

“I apologise, my son.” God smiled. “It has been many years since we have spoken, Light-bringer.”

Lucifer released a disbelieving scoff, rolling his eyes. It had been eons since dear old Dad had spoken to him or any one of his siblings, save most recently Amenadiel. An eternity of punishment without a single comment, and the first words out of his father’s mouth were to ridicule him, with the name Lucifer had rejected upon his ascension to the throne no less.

Lucifer took a stepped forward into his father’s light, ignoring the others behind him (especially Michael’s insufferable glare), while his tense jaw worked from side to side in barely restrained anger. Of all the times in which Dad could’ve shown his face, he had the stones to show up now.

“I presume you’ve popped down here with the likes of us for a reason, _Dad_.” Lucifer began, fanning his arms out with a grand sweeping gesture around him. “Fancied getting down and dirty with the mortals, did you?”

God shook his head softly, an oh-so familiar look of disappointment clouding his features.

“No, my son.” His eyes hardened, displeasure evident as he caught the gaze of each of them, “I have come here to intervene in the mess which you have all caused.”

“Well, don’t blame me. I was an innocent bystander in all of this!” Lucifer exclaimed wildly, pointing towards Michael with an accusing finger. Michael glowered back with a sour look. “It’s _him_ who decided to play where he didn’t belong!”

“Father! You can’t believe Lucifer, I was merely trying to-“

“ **Enough!** ” The Almighty erupted, abruptly silencing Michael’s grating voice. Lucifer winced. God’s command was alarming in the frozen quiet of the precinct. “It is _all_ of you who are to blame. I do not care for your trivial excuses. Including you, Amenadiel,” he added without looking at the beginnings of Amenadiel’s incredulous expression. 

“I endeavoured to not interfere with my children’s affairs, free will withstanding, and yet-“ God paused, visibly calming himself after a breath, and lowered his voice to a level that was more appropriate for conversation, “and _yet_ , I must interfere now.”

He turned to his eldest son and pressed his lips together. “Amenadiel, why did you stop time?”

Lucifer saw his brother’s face soften into an expression that appeared every time Amenadiel mentioned Daddy Dearest, though this time it was mingled with something more. Concern, perhaps. “Father, I needed to see for myself. Charlie- he’s not a celestial being like me? He too, is affected by my power. Why?”

Good to know that his eldest brother trusted his advice earlier and not the lying, cowardly Michael’s. Honestly, for someone who was infamous in the Silver City for being a liar (not to mention the tiny fact that Lucifer was _incapable_ of lying), it was truly outstanding the number of people who trusted Michael’s word over his. If God was the master of manipulation, Michael definitely didn’t fall too far from the tree in that regard.

“Amenadiel, you know the answer. You had humanised yourself when your son was conceived, and as such, your son is human.” Compassion filled his voice, yet Lucifer could hear the detached tone behind it. It was not unlike the sound which he had heard shortly before being kicked out the house and taken a trip down to into Hell. It promised something more than what was being said was at play.

Amenadiel’s eyebrows pinched together. Despair covered his face, likely at the concept of Charlie’s mortality, Lucifer imagined. His brother released a breathy sound, something like, “ _Oh._ ” He quickly sat down in an unoccupied desk chair, elbows resting on his knees and hands covering the back of his neck, as his head hung down.

“And you, Michael. What was your plan when coming down to Earth?” God questioned, changing tact and stared Michael in his scarred face. Lucifer watched his twin’s crooked back squirm, the less rigid shoulder working in a nervous twitch. The Archangel’s expression contorted into a (presumably false) look of anguish.

Honestly, how could a face so handsome as Lucifer’s appear so revolting when given Michael’s disposition?

“He destroyed Uriel, Father!” Michael began, American accent harsh and flat. His twin’s words tugged on the heavy guilt that had surrounded Lucifer’s stomach once upon a time, causing his mouth to dry, despite simultaneously thinking that the outcry was a touch too dramatic. Michael hadn’t even liked Uriel.

“He murdered our brother in cold blood, and nothing has come of it,” his twin continued, eyes cautiously flitting to the floor and back to Dad. Now he was really laying it on thick.

“Uriel was not acting of my volition when he came to Earth.” God replied, seemingly unaffected. Lucifer pursed his lips. Not even the mention of his son’s own destruction could ruffle that bastard’s feathers.

“So, he deserved to be eradicated for all time?” Michael’s voice grew outlandishly more confident seeing no repercussions from being so horrendously outspoken, and he became more impassioned still, while Lucifer’s throat tightened. Regret pulled on his vocal cords like a noose, silencing him. 

“How is that justice? Precious _Lucifer_ , given the chance to improve despite his numerous faults and rebellion – gifted the throne of Hell, no less, and Uriel _obliterated_. For one misgiving,” Michael finished, holding up a single finger.

“While it is unfortunate that Uriel is no longer with us, he attempted to end innocent lives. Lucifer did not.” Lucifer blanched at God’s frank statement. Was it really that simple to him?

“ _Human_ lives!” Michael shouted now, in his desperation to be heard. “Inconsequential lives! We are celestial beings. They- they’re _nothing_ compared to us!”

“And that is where you are wrong Michael.” Dad was furious, the air surrounding him taking on a sinister quality. Nothing quite riled up the Almighty than insulting or interfering with his precious humans. Lucifer would know, it was why he was banished from the Garden in the first place. “Your brother used to think the same way, until he took a trip to Hell. Perhaps a similar stay would improve your attitude as well,” he threatened.

“No! Please, no!” Michael begged though his eyes remained dry, falling to his knees, his stiff arm hitting the floor at the knuckles with a thud. “I’ll do better. I swear.”

His father released a heavy sigh. Anticipation filled Lucifer’s bones, hoping that Michael would receive some retribution for infiltrating his life so thoroughly, dropping celestial truth-bombs wherever he went. Alongside being a manipulative bastard and downright bore. But Lucifer didn’t get his hopes up: his father’s favour had rarely fallen upon him when he and Michael had argued, even before the rebellion. That much was evident when Amenadiel had said that Michael had ascended to God’s right hand.

“I don’t believe you.” Lucifer’s lips parted in shock as he looked at God in confusion, eyes widened, a choked laugh of scepticism escaping him. Michael’s face echoed a similar expression.

With a shake of his head, God dismissed Michael. “I’ll deal with the consequences of your actions later, Michael,” an ominous tone of finality following it.

The thick, static presence of the air which had permeated the precinct changed into a less oppressive level, as God’s attention fell upon Mazikeen and away from his sons. He gazed curiously at Maze, who had remained uncharacteristically silent in the presence of Dad himself. He quirked a smile, which appeared strangely cruel, “A demon wishing for a soul. How peculiar.”

Maze snapped out of her shock, eyes focusing on God. So that was what Maze desired? It certainly explained her questions when Lucifer was looking for their serial killer on CCTV footage. Lucifer was taken by surprise, as Maze’s usually harsh voice was hesitant once she began to speak, “So… I can have a soul?”

Despite her most recent betrayal, Lucifer felt its sting lessen at the tentative quality that was imbued in his oldest friend’s question. He dreaded his Dad’s answer, the one which he knew was coming.

“No, Mazikeen of the Lilium. Demons do not, and cannot, have souls.”

Maze looked down; her expression hard, blades spinning to land in her palm. Since Lucifer had received years of therapy from the good Doctor Linda, he recognised that he felt sorry for Maze, and vaguely guilty for not identifying her desires before this moment. He could’ve saved himself (and her) a lot of fighting and brotherly manipulation had he comprehended this piece of information beforehand. Not that Lucifer could’ve known. He and Maze were rarely on regular speaking terms these days.

His father’s tenor knocked Lucifer out of his reflective stupor – surely, he was next for the proverbial ball kicking. “Put your wings away, children. I believe we do not want to make a scene in the middle of this facility.”

The thwap of air displacement from his siblings retracting their wings hit Lucifer before the meaning behind his Dad’s words did. He quickly followed suit at God’s raised eyebrow. Did this mean he wasn’t about to get a good bollocking?

God let out a rich chuckle at his perplexed expression, then disappeared. Lucifer let out a quiet ‘ _Um,’_ in protest before the cacophony of ringing telephones, papers scattering everywhere, and general precinct hubbub exploded throughout the room. Michael, that bastard, was also missing. Lucifer hastily looked between Maze and Amenadiel, who appeared to be stuck in their retrospective positions.

“Did that really just happen?”

He received no answer. If it wasn’t for Officer Davis scrambling about the floor for her files, Lucifer would’ve thought that time was still frozen. A further piece of evidence for time returning was the Good Doctor’s aborted call for Amenadiel, and soon thereafter, Lucifer saw Linda heave a sigh of relief at the sight of his brother, as she leaned over the glass banister. Lucifer gave a little wave.

The final piece, one which Lucifer immediately regretted to learn about, was the slamming of a door and a very angry looking Detective. Lucifer dropped his hand.

“Oh, for Dad’s sake.”


	2. the moth from last night is dead rip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes a conversation is all you need. Sometimes... it isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blimey oh Riley! I am blown AWAY by the response the first chapter got. Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos! It really motivated me to pump out this chapter for today.  
> I think this may end up as a proper story, and I might separate prompts into another fic, just to keep everything neat. 
> 
> Notes regarding this chapter:  
> I’m not a huge fan of Chloe since series 3 really, though I appreciate that she has high stress scenarios to deal with. She was slightly hypocritical this series (05) asking for time and space, and then demanding Lucifer to return the ILY statement, which felt a bit pushy if you ask me. But that’s just my opinion, I don’t want to hate on any characters. If she feels out of character, please tell me and I’ll try to rectify it as quickly as possible! Also, I’m not American – so let me know if anything doesn’t sound American enough when in the POV of an American character.
> 
> If anyone would like to beta for me on this story, either give us a shout in a comment or private message me if that’s something you can do on AO3 (I’m new to this whole writing malarkey, if you can’t already tell).

One second Lucifer was right in front of her, the next he was gone. Chloe gaped. She thought they were finally getting somewhere, communicating about their relationship and the next thing she knew, he had flown off (literally, more than likely) at the sign of a difficult conversation.

Nu-huh. Not this time. She was not about to wait another two months without an answer.

She yanked the evidence locker door open, and shut it with equal fervour, finding Lucifer in the middle of the bullpen with a slack expression.

“Lucifer!” She hastily walked up to face him with an accusing glare. “Where the hell do you think you’re going- and do _not_ make a Hell joke right now,” she emphasised with a jabbing finger to his chest. Lucifer slammed his mouth shut and had the nerve to look shocked and offended at the same time.

“We’re gonna to go home, and talk about this like adults,” Chloe ordered, then paused, noting his messed-up hair for the first time. In fact, his entire wardrobe was in disarray compared to what she had just seen in the evidence closet. Stalled in her thought, she gave him a questioning look.

“What?” Lucifer glanced down, and looked displeased, as if he was noticing his own rumpled attire for the first time. “Oh. I’ll fill you in on details later. Nothing that can’t wait.” He gave a soft smile as he straightened out his pocket square. “And you’re completely right Detective, we should talk about this.”

Chloe’s head flicked back up at Lucifer, perplexed.

“Okay,” she said, dragging out the word. She almost expected God to come down and strike her with lightning – his years in therapy with Linda must have finally begun to pay off if he was willing to talk about his feelings so soon after running away from them.

When no further comment was made, she felt herself grow slightly impatient. “Now?” she asked, with the raised eyebrow.

“Yes, of course Detective. After you,” he swept his arm out, motioning her towards the elevator.

* * *

They’d driven to Lucifer’s penthouse in silence, one that was a dichotomy between comfortable and tense. He poured himself and the Detective a drink, the brown liquid pooling slowly in the glass, stalling for time.

Lucifer was still reeling from the fact that _Dad_ of all beings had decided to make an appearance. It had been millennia. Some part of Lucifer, one which he would never admit to himself, had longed for his father to acknowledge him after all this time. The other part seethed with fury for being ignored in favour of Michael and Amenadiel – and even _Maze_.

“Lucifer?” She touched his arm, stopping the liquid he was pouring, just before it flowed over the rim of the glass.

“Right. Yes, of course,” he put down the glasses, exchanging them to cup Chloe’s face in a delicate hold. He took a large breath, and slowly released it. “I’m going to say this right now, before some other family feud occurs. Here goes. Chloe Jane Decker, I love you.”

There, he said it. And the world didn’t end.

In fact, the Detective gave Lucifer a blinding smile in response, tender eyes watery while tears trailed slowly down her cheeks. He too, could feel the prickly burn of tears behind his eyes, though his own cheeks remained dry. Lucifer leaned in to give her a gentle kiss but stopped as the corners of her sweet mouth dropped suddenly, and he felt slight pressure from the hand that had been resting on the centre of his chest, pushing him away.

Lucifer quickly drew his hand back away from her face, hurt. “Chloe?”

“I’m sorry, Lucifer,” she said, releasing a shaky exhale. “I thought that- I thought I needed to hear you say that. And it makes me happy… really, really happy that you did.”

“But?” he added, a sinking feeling settling like tar in his stomach. Rejection burned throughout his body, snuffing out his joy at finally sharing his feelings.

“But I don’t understand,” she shook her head, her hair falling in front of her face, before she swiped it back with an impatient hand. “You’re invulnerable again around me. Why? You say that you- that you love me, but if angels self-actualise like Michael said-“

“-Michael lies, Detective,” Lucifer replied, realising that she was not, in fact rejecting him, but instead lingering over fears instilled by is psycho-twin. He tucked the stray hair behind her ears.

“So, angels don’t self-actualise,” she questioned, tilting her head up to look him in the eyes.

“No, we do,” he quickly corrected, and tilted his head. “Well, that’s Amenadiel’s leading theory… but just because I’m physically invulnerable around you now Detective, it doesn’t mean that I’m not still _vulnerable_.” Lucifer gave her a small smile, hoping to erase her doubts.

Truth be told (and considering Lucifer was, well, Lucifer, that’s all he could do), he didn’t know why he had regained all his Devilish abilities. If anything, he hadn’t ever felt more vulnerable around the Detective, especially after their most recent case involving the Whisper Killer when he was completely paralysed. Being unable to alert the Detective to the psychotic man’s presence had filled Lucifer with fear like no other, that he – a celestial being – was so powerless against an insane human. It terrified him. He had never felt so utterly, and completely powerless than he had in that moment.

“It’s like you said earlier, Detective… when I had lost my mojo,” Lucifer continued, “why don’t we try to enjoy _this_ right here, right now. Worry about the celestial nonsense later.”

Chloe let out a heavy sigh and a small nod, “Right.” Her head changed tune and began to shake, “You’re completely right. One thing at a time, yeah?”

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, which Lucifer gladly returned. It was brief, and they rested their foreheads together in an intimate moment, not unlike when Lucifer first realised that what he and the Detective had was real, after the poison debacle. He was so close to losing her then, too.

Internally, he heaved a sigh of relief. He thought he had immediately messed up this relationship business no sooner than it had started. Celestial problems could definitely take a back burner, especially considering that he hadn’t even been in Los Angeles a month, and already his brother and father had decided to take an unwelcome visit. Thinking of which, Lucifer ponded where Michael had gotten to. Lucifer thought it was best that he didn’t dwell on his fate too much, considering Dad was likely to sort him out after tampering with his humans. It was nothing that Michael didn’t deserve for interposing himself every aspect of Lucifer’s life.

The Detective let out a sound, one that caused Lucifer to break their embrace.

“What is it?”

“Sorry, I was enjoying this moment, I swear,” her eyes looked pinched again, “I can’t help but feel so bad for Ella. She was really looking forward to getting the good guy for once and look what happened. A serial killer. Life is crazy even without the celestial aspect.”

Lucifer shared the Detective’s feelings on the matter, poor Ms Lopez. She deserved so much better and reminded him entirely too much of his younger sister, Azrael. A thought occurred to him.

“I know! Why don’t you go pick up Beatrice from Mama Decker, and I’ll go check on Ms Lopez,” Lucifer finished with a flourish. He still needed to apologise to Ms Lopez for leaving her high and dry when he returned to Hell, and the two had bonded over many nights in the lab. Lucifer was always happy to lend an ear to their favourite forensic scientist, and he thought she might need a friendly face right about now.

“You know what, Lucifer? That sounds like a great idea,” the smile Lucifer received made his chest feel tight, and he was fairly certain that his heart had skipped a beat or two. “Meet you at my house in a couple of hours? It is, after all, game night.”

“Yes, that sounds splendid!” Lucifer pondered for a moment, then frowned. “Though the little urchin didn’t seem so interested in playing Monopoly the last time she was visited.”

The Detective looked down, a flicker of guilt passing over her pretty features. “I’m sorry I didn’t come last time.”

“Oh, you came plenty of times, Detective. As a matter of fact, so did I,” Lucifer leered, and received a whack on the arm for his cheekiness. He rubbed the stinging appendage emphatically.

“I’m trying to apologise here,” the Detective said with a laugh, which soon sobered. “Really, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have shut you out like that.”

“Forgotten, Detective. I assure you,” Lucifer replied sincerely. After his conversation with Doctor Linda, he had realised that the Detective had good reason to take time to consider her agency, learning she was a gift from God was not exactly an everyday experience for humans, after all. It was genuinely amazing that she had come around so quickly from being manipulated to kill him by that dastardly priest, to loving the Devil himself.

“Okay,” she glanced up at him through her eyelashes (cheeky minx) and gave him a chaste peck, before making her way to the lift. “See you soon,” she said, before the doors closed on her, leaving Lucifer only enough time to execute a tiny wave of his hand.

_Right_ , he thought. _Now where is Ms Lopez?_

He quickly grabbed a swig of the liquor he had poured earlier - for luck - and made his way to the basement to collect his Corvette. Since Lucifer was already aware that her statement had been taken for the report, he guessed she had returned to her apartment. Really, the worst things happened to Ms Lopez, to say she was one of the kindest humans he’d ever met, his dear Detective notwithstanding.

He pulled out into Los Angeles traffic (how could’ve he have forgotten how bad it was, honestly atrocious) when a grating screech of tyres hit assaulted his ears. Bewilderment came first, before his entire body was jostled upon sudden impact, head cracking against the window screen, creating spider web fractures along it. Dark red blood bursted out from his thigh, where a piece of metal had embedded itself, tearing the muscle within.

Lucifer would’ve questioned how this was possible, had he not blacked out from pain and head trauma the instant the semi-truck had collided with him.

* * *

A loud and confident knock at her door shook Ella out of her depression cave. The blankets that she had swaddled herself in shifted, as she scrambled to turn down the volume of the television, currently playing telenovelas. She had tried watching anything not involving romance, but all the movies she had were sci-fi, which also caused her to feel nauseated, bile threatening to rise up any time she so much as thought of that _puta._

Ella paused, hoping that the lack of noise would indicate to the knocker that she wasn’t home.

“I know you’re in there, Ms Lopez!” _Oh_ _mierda_. So much for hoping. “It’s only me- Lucifer, that is!”

Ella exhaled, as if she hadn’t had guessed. “Go away,” she shouted back sharply.

“Come now, Ms Lopez,” he continued as if she hadn’t even spoken, “Open the door. Please? For me?”

Ella frowned. It was really cruel of him to use manners at a time like this, especially when he knew that she couldn’t resist them. She was almost the target for a serial killer for Pet- _damn it- God’s_ sake, she wanted to be left alone to contemplate all the ways she could’ve avoided this.

The sound of footsteps pacing could be heard along the carpeted hallways. If Ella knew Lucifer at all, he would not be leaving until he was sure Ella was okay. And well yeah, Ella was not okay, not at all. She was scared and pissed because the one time she had trusted her gut and gone for the _good_ guy, he ended up being the freaking worst of them all!

In a fit of built up rage, she threw the door open, with an angry, “What!” only to stumble over the word at the sight of Lucifer’s face. A six-inch incision seemed to run along the anterior to the lateral side of his face, intersecting along his nasal bone and zygomatic arch. The wound seemed weeks old, considering how pink it was, the skin puckered at the edges.

“Lucifer, what happened to your face?” It didn’t make any sense, Ella didn’t recall seeing a wound that big on Lucifer before, she would’ve noticed, for sure. Shock did a lot of things to the body, could impact eye-witness statements, yeah, but Ella would’ve definitely seen something like this before the whole boyfriend turned serial-killer scenario. That injury was older than a few hours: the time in which Ella had last seen Lucifer.

Did he go down to Florida to not help his family, but instead to receive cosmetic surgery – get a prosthetic that he forgot to wear right now, perhaps? It would explain why he never said goodbye, if he was hiding facial damage, and why he was so cagey when he returned about what he did during in his time in Florida.

But no prosthetic could ever be that good, right? Ella would have seen the prosthetic line where it joined his real skin; she was trained to spot details like that. Being rich and buying the best doctors couldn’t actually produce miracles all of the time. Besides, that would mean that Lucifer had lied to her about his mom being ill and Lucifer had never lied to her – at least not lying in important terms. His whole acting shtick as the Devil was completely different to _real_ lying.

Lucifer looked surprised for a second, before pointing to the garish scar. “Oh, this? It’s just Halloween makeup.”

Ella frowned and squinted further, causing the residue of her dried tears to crunch as she did. “It’s August,” she said, disbelieving.

That scar looked really real. Too real to be fake. When did he have time to buy and apply Halloween makeup anyway? Wouldn’t he and Chloe be too busy reuniting? They only found her hours ago and yeah, Chloe might’ve been busy with Trixie, considering she was rushed to her mom’s house, but Lucifer couldn’t have gotten that bored that quickly. Then again, it was Lucifer… but he could’ve gone with Chloe?

“So, I like to be prepared,” Lucifer shrugged. He clapped his large hands together, startling Ella slightly. “Right! Enough about me, I’m here for you Ms Lopez.”

“Me?”

“To see how you are, of course,” Lucifer pulled her into a hug. Had he gone _loco_? “With the Detective being kidnapped, and everything else that has been going on, I can’t help but feel that you were being neglected Ms Lopez. What kind of Devil could call himself a friend if he did that?”

Ella returned the hug with a slightly frustrated, but ultimately content sigh, never wanting one to go to waste (especially not a _Lucifer hug_ , they were rarer than quality forensic cameras) and softened in his arms as he spoke. She was just so burnt out and tired. It felt so good to know that someone had cared enough to see her, and comfort her, weird Halloween trimmings aside.

The buzzing of her phone interrupted their friendly embrace. “Sorry Lucifer, it might be work. You know how it is.”

He released her immediately, gesturing to her phone. “Of course, go right ahead.”

“Thanks Lucifer. You’re a really good friend. I’ll just be a minute.” She held up a finger and answered the phone with her other hand, bringing it up to her ear.

“Is this Ella Lopez?”

“Yes, speaking,”

Lucifer mouthed to question who it was, which she also replied back, with a wordless, ‘I don’t know.’

“This is the Los Angeles County and USC Medical Center,” Ella’s eyes widened, “We couldn’t contact Mr Morningstar’s primary emergency contacts to inform them, but you were also listed-“

Ella looked back at Lucifer, confusion painting her face. Lucifer was right here, why would the hospital be calling?

“-Mr Morningstar has been in a vehicular accident this afternoon and has required emergency surgery and has been stabilised. If possible, could you visit the hospital for the necessary arrangements regarding insurance policies and documentation-“

“-That’s not possible,” Ella began, her voice quiet and containing a breathy quality to it, interrupting the hospital caller. “Lucifer – Mr Morningstar, is standing right in front of me.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Lucifer snatched the phone away from Ella, catching her wrist in a tight grip in the process. What the hell? What was he doing? Her breathing picked up, panic beginning to set in again, for the third time in 24 hours.

“Lucifer?” she asked, betrayal curdling.

“Not. Lucifer.” The stranger with her friend’s face replied, in a different accent than the one he was just using. A sinister smile crawled up his face, darkening the shadows of his eyes, whilst his right shoulder raised, the left dropping, causing the man to look even more off kilter.

“Who the hell are you?” Ella questioned in a hoarse voice, trying to pull her wrist from an iron-clad hold.

“Oh-ho. Not hell. I knew I shouldn’t’ve let you answer that call,” he replied ominously. He tilted his head like a predator, eyes gleaming and cruel. “I’m Michael.”

A gust of wind that accompanied his introduction caused Ella to flinch, and her knees buckled at the sight of massive black wings originating from _Michael’s_ back, that caused all the light to be sucked out of the room. If it wasn’t for the grip on her wrist, she would’ve fallen straight to the floor.

“Now, tell me…” Michael bit his lip and looked deeply into Ella’s eyes which were almost completely white. She was petrified. “What do you fear most in this world?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger. They're just so much easier to leave people on, even though I personally hate them.
> 
> Also, despite Michael being a complete dickhead, I like him.


	3. in which the moth titles become relevant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God bless nurses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY MOLY, over 200 kudos and 2000 hits! I am astounded at the response this fic has gotten - it's the most I've ever recieved and it's only been 3 days. Thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos, it really makes my day to be able to interact with you all and motivates me to keep writing! I am so grateful for each and every one of you, seriously, thank you so much!
> 
> \--
> 
> OCs are for storytelling purposes only :)
> 
> \--
> 
> This has not been beta read as usual. You know the drill: if any mistakes, please tell me!

Nurse Georgie Doreen Houston was not having a good day. Her favourite comfy shoes been puked on before 9am this morning, meaning she had to wear the spare lime green crocs that gave her blisters, spilled her latte macchiato on the way to work thanks to some jerk off who shoulder-checked her, and her ex-wife Jocelyn had decided to call the hospital no less than _seven_ times to remind her that _it’s Benjamin’s third birthday, Georgie, you really should come by to celebrate!_

Now all of her subordinates thought she was a bitch for ignoring her ‘son’s birthday,’ when in fact, Benjamin was the dog that Jocelyn brought home one night, covered in shit and mange. As far as Georgie was concerned, that mutt was the cause of all her marital problems. So no, she was not going to visit the damn dog after her 12-hour shift at the hospital.

But what was really the straw that broke the camel’s back, was the box of gauze that hit her straight on the face, knocking her glasses to the side and causing a smudge of face oil to mar the lens. Only three hours left of the stupid shift, and here she was, grabbing shit that the training nurses should’ve used to stock the trauma rooms.

They’d need a lot of gauze pads too. The patient that came in was losing a lot of blood, having been involved in a massive traffic collision just outside a swanky nightclub called Lux. Bastard probably was getting a head start on the night, likely under the influence when he got T-boned by the semi. But it wasn’t Georgie’s place to judge – she just had to help fix the guy, so she could go home and finish off painting her bedroom wall.

Quickly grabbing what she needed, she jogged back to trauma room 3, her blistered feet throbbing. The familiar noise of high-pitched beeping and medical professionals spitting instructions at each other hit her ears, while the medical students gossiped at the side. Typical.

“Man, his ulna is completely crushed!” Ronaldo or something commented, sounding entirely too excited at the prospect of reconstructive surgery. His friend Herberts nodded, face looking a little green around the gills.

“Yeah, Rhona is gonna have a field day with this one, but I’m going to need to stop this nicked artery from bursting before she gets the chance to reconstruct,” Doctor Monroe added, before scanning impatiently around the room. “Where is that damn nur- ah,” he snatched a wad of gauze out of the readily opened packet that Georgie was holding. Prick. A thank you wouldn’t have gone amiss.

“You should be nicer to Nurse Houston, Paul,” Doctor Anima Sharma chastised. That woman was a saint. The only good doctor in this hospital, as far as Georgie was concerned. “She can make your life a living hell.”

Doctor Monroe looked up at her through his safety goggles, “I’ll believe that when I see it.” Georgie squinted back at him with smirk; shark smile hidden by her mask.

“Funny you mention hell, Doctor Sharma,” Raphael (?) piped up again, while the real doctors interspersed orders to various lackies, and pushed several drugs to stabilise the patient’s heart rate and blood pressure enough for surgery.

“And why is that, Ramirez?” Close enough. It wasn’t Georgie’s job to keep track of the assholes-in-training.

“Patient’s name is Lucifer Morningstar, according to his car registration,” Ramirez chuckled, holding the tablet chart, “how crazy is that?”

“It’s L.A. What do you expect?” Sharma chimed, “Now. What _is_ crazy is my medical student not paying attention to what we’re doing. Get here.” Ramirez hurriedly scooted over by Sharma’s side, and Georgie also came closer to fix any mistakes that he was likely to make. 

Huh. For a guy that looked as pale as the gauze they were stuffing him with, the patient was kinda attractive. Not that Georgie was interested. Enrique Iglesias is the only man that she’d consider turning straight for.

“Herberts!” Monroe barked, causing the weed to flinch and knock a kidney basin over. “Be useful for once and go find out if the Devil himself has any relatives that need contacting, ASAP.”

Poor kid almost impaled themselves on the way out.

Monroe clicked the sides of the emergency bed up, “Houston, call the OR to let them know we’re coming.” Georgie rolled her eyes but went to the phone to complete her orders. She was gonna spit in that guy’s drink as soon as she had the chance.

* * *

Lucifer was on some good drugs. He blinked slowly, opening his bleary eyes, regretting the decision almost immediately as he squinted against the false lighting that insulted his retinas.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” a voice off to the side chimed, and after a pause, it said, “If you can even die.”

Lucifer groaned. He knew that voice.

“Dani _elle_.” Croakier than expected, but he managed to get his distaste across, and that was what really mattered.

“Lucifer, what the he-ck, man?” Lucifer turned away from the noise. His brain felt like Bellios was Irish dancing on it. Where did the good drug feeling go?

“Shhhhh Daniel,” he paused after attempting to put a finger on his lips. Was that a cast on his arm? “Water.”

“What? Oh.” Detective Douche decided to be useful, and pulled the cup towards Lucifer, who grabbed the straw with his lips after an unsuccessful attempt or two, and sighed as the refreshing water soothed his burning throat. 

After a few seconds too long (just to test Daniel’s patience), he turned back towards him with a puzzled expression.

“What on earth am I doing in a hospital?”

“You were in a car accident,” Dan answered, his eyebrows raised. “Quite a big one actually, but that’s what I don’t get-”

“Was the Detective near me?” Lucifer asked, ignoring Dan’s fishing for now. He brought his free hand to his temple and tried to rub the ache away. He mumbled under his breath. “But that doesn’t make any sense, I’m not vulnerable around her anymore.”

He gave Dan an accusing look, “And that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

“Hey, no- I didn’t want to be here either!” Dan pointed to his badge, “I’m here on official business.”

“But you work homicide, correct? Or did they demote you, again… sign any more weapons out of evidence recently?” Lucifer frowned. “Shoot anyone besides me?”

“Dude, no! Marino’s wife has just had a baby, so I offered to take his case,” he explained. “The other guy driving in the collision died, so we have to investigate to make sure his death wasn’t under suspicious circumstances. I told Marino I knew you, and Chloe’s getting Trixie before coming since she was already halfway to Penelope’s, so,” he finished with a shrug.

“Well, thank you, Daniel, but I didn’t ask for your entire life story.” Lucifer paused; Daniel was taking his whole being the _actual_ Devil significantly better now than he did earlier. He looked at him suspiciously. “But you know mine.”

To Daniel’s credit, the detective (but not _his_ Detective) cottoned on surprisingly quickly that Lucifer was referring to his more Devilish side. His posture stiffened slightly.

“Uh, yeah, I guess I do.”

Lucifer waited for more to come, but none did. “And… you’re taking this rather well for someone who tried to kill me not so long ago.” Lucifer raised a dark eyebrow. “Why?”

Daniel looked rightfully guilty and exasperated at the same time. “Look Lucifer, realising that the guy who constantly steals my pudding cups, drinks out of my mug, and generally makes my life a living hell was because you’re actually the freakin’ Devil was a shock, definitely. I didn’t handle it well.”

Lucifer nodded (slowly, his head still felt like Maze was having a field day with it). The contrite facial expression suited Dan.

“And the fact that it was all real: Heaven, Hell – _God_ , really made me regret not listening to my abuela about going to church.” He heaved a deep sigh and fiddled with his amethyst bracelet.

“I was in a dark place when Michael – the brother which you never told us about, by the way – told me about all of the things you’ve done, after descending from the freakin’ sky with angel wings. It would be enough to send any guy over the edge. But I still shouldn’t have shot you,” Daniel said sincerely, “I realised, you’re not so bad.”

His tone filled Lucifer with a strange sort of warmth. Maybe the drugs had kicked back in a bit. In a rare fit of kindness, Lucifer gave a small but serious smile at Dan. They shared a short comfortable silence, before Lucifer broke it. “So, now that you know… have any questions for me, Detective Douche?”

(The teasing name slipped out – Lucifer was still allowed to be slightly pissed that the first thing Dan did when he found out Lucifer was the Devil was to kill him. But the Detective had done the exact same thing. Lucifer was beginning to notice a pattern. One he should probably look out for if he was going to seriously tell anyone else in the future).

He looked unsure, “Uh- uh, yeah, actually.”

Lucifer half expected a list of names to be pulled out of his pocket – Linda had written down a whole novel worth once she got over her patient being the Devil. Sensing Daniel’s hesitation, he made a ‘go on then,’ gesture to move him along.

“So, I shot you,” Dan put out his hands, and looked off to the side of the bed, before his eyes came back to meet Lucifer’s, “multiple times and it looked like the bullets just bounced off you without a scratch. Did you malfunction or something? How did a truck manage to take you out, but bullets couldn’t?”

“Isn’t that just the question of the day, Daniel,” Lucifer replied ominously, then glanced at his non-casted arm, as he felt something slip down it. “I don’t think I’ll be needing a new bracelet, _bro_ – they’ve given my another one.”

“Lucifer, can’t you be serious for one minute?”

“I am being serious Daniel; I think that chakra nonsense was messing with my mojo.”

Detective Douche scoffed with the shake of his head and slapped his legs. “Just when I thought I could finally get some straight answers out of you- don’t,” Daniel held up a finger. Lucifer shut his mouth for half a second, his likely lewd pun interrupted before it began.

Lucifer shifted upright on the bed to better face the man, and told him with a solemn expression, “I honestly don’t know why a simple car accident affected me. My mojo,” Daniel made a face at the word, “has been all over the place since the Detective and I-“

Daniel crossed his hands over in a wafting motion, disgusted. Despite Lucifer starting off his sentence earnestly, he could feel the beginnings of a salacious leer at the memory of him and the Detective together. Daniel probably he knew where he was going with that expression on Lucifer’s face. “I don’t need to know that, man.”

“At least I didn’t sleep with _your_ mum,” Lucifer countered, equally repulsed. “Really, Daniel, out of all the three women you could have slept with.”

“Slept with- oh. Oh. _Oh_ God.” Lucifer gained some sick satisfaction at the pure fear that clouded the Douche’s features, “Oh _God!_ I slept with God’s wif-“

Daniel slapped his hands over his mouth. While he probably pondered what kind of welcome he’d receive in Heaven for sleeping with God’s ex, Lucifer contemplated his vulnerability sitch. The last time he thought about this, it had been the Detective’s proximity which had been the issue. Perhaps this time, it was her proximity that was the solution.

“Ah, it would seem that one hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Nevertheless, I need you to call the Detective and get her here right now. I hadn’t planned on seeing your face after my near-death experience – puts a bit of a dampener on the whole survival part, you see,” Lucifer said impatiently. Was it normal for his arm to itch so much? His right thigh was beginning to twinge painfully too.

“I slept with your m-“

“-Yes, yes! We have that established, Daniel. We never have to speak of it again. Now be a good Douche and call the Detective,” Lucifer exclaimed, pointing his good hand at Dan’s phone and snapping his fingers. “You can question your future on your own time.”

Seemingly on autopilot, Daniel grabbed his phone and began calling, the faint trill of ringing hitting Lucifer’s ears. He grabbed his chart on the bedside table and began flicking through it while he waited for the call to connect, glancing back at the Douche occasionally. “And they said I’m the one with the probable concussion,” he muttered while Daniel greeted the Detective.

‘Let me talk to her,’ he mouthed, putting his hand up to his ear making a phone symbol.

Dan rolled his eyes. Lucifer rolled his back and made them glow, causing Daniel to launch the phone at him.

“Ah! Detective!” he began smugly.

 _“Lucifer! Are you okay? Dan said you’ve been in an accident and you’re_ actually _hurt.”_

It sounded like she was driving from the road noise in the background.

“Yes, I’m fine – well, I’ve had to put up with Detective Douche’s company-“

_“Lucifer, you’re on speaker.”_

“And?”

“ _Hi Lucifer!”_ Oh lovely, the urchin was there.

“Beatrice, _tu padre es un idiota!_ ” There was a gasp on the other side of the phone. Daniel scowled at him, seemingly already over his Devil eyes. Good for him.

_“You speak Spanish?”_

“I’m the Devil, darling. I speak everything,” Lucifer gloated.

 _“Pretty sure that’s Doctor Who,”_ Beatrice replied.

“Who?”

_“Precisely.”_

“You know urchin, you grow constantly more confusing. Is your mother neglecting your education?”

 _“Lucifer!”_ Oops. The Detective sounded irked _. “Are you 100% okay? They said you were in the hospital and had to have surgery?”_

“Hm yes, it appears I have some broken bones, but nothing life threatening – I assure you, Detective, everything important is in working order.”

_“I don’t understand, I thought you couldn’t be hurt anymore.”_

_“Everyone can get hurt, mom.”_

The Detective made a startled noise, as if she forgot Beatrice wasn’t in the know.

“Perhaps we should talk about this when you arrive here, Detective?” See, Lucifer can be responsible and recognise when it was unsuitable to discuss his Devilish qualities. “Which will be when exactly?”

An unsure sound followed, _“You know what the traffic is like in L.A. It’ll probably be about an hour,”_ Lucifer gave an audible sigh. _“I’m sorry Lucifer, at least Dan is there to keep you out of trouble.”_

He made an offended noise.

 _“I’ll see you soon, yeah? I love you.”_ Lucifer immediately forgot what he was offended about.

“And I you, Detective,” he returned sweetly.

The phone hung up with a series of beeps, and Lucifer realised he was alone. Where had Daniel gotten to now? He craned his neck to look through the glass of his hospital room window and saw Daniel conversing with the nurses in the corridor. Poor things, being subjected to the Douche’s more than likely boring conversation.

Taking the opportunity while he could, Lucifer grabbed the straw out of his water cup and attempted to stick it down the edge of his cast. How did humans regularly wear these for weeks on end? They were despicable.

A loud _whomp_ caused Lucifer to jump and shove the offending straw behind his back, suspecting that he probably shouldn’t have been scratching his broken arm. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when he realised who was the cause of the noise.

“Really Michael, must you fly in like a moth on crack,” Lucifer moaned, “I’m busy.”

“Is that so, brother,” Michael replied, his good hand holding so tightly onto Lucifer’s bedframe that his knuckled whitened and the frame creaked. “Because I think you’re gonna want to hear this.”

Lucifer tilted his head at Michael. “Well, go on then. I’m all ears.” Not like he had anywhere better to go, considering the Detective was coming here. He still hadn’t forgiven Michael for kidnapping her, but she wasn’t actually harmed and in his current condition he couldn’t exactly kick him out. Whatever Michael had planned to say better be good if Dad had released him back out into the world.

Michael slowly walked up to the head of the bed, trailing his hand along the sheet. _Way to be creepy, brother._

“Hmm, Dad really did it this time.”

What? “Stop playing games, Michael. What are you talking about?”

“Why the nature of angels, of course.” He grabbed Lucifer’s casted arm, which the Devil hastily snatched back. “Here I thought Amenadiel had out done himself, stopping time. But you, Lucifer- you took the cake on this one.”

Lucifer allowed his fury at Michael’s games to change his eyes to red. “You better get to the point Michael before I shove this straw so far-“

Michael flicked his hands out (well attempted, the more rigid arm seemed stiffer than usual and so only jerked) in a placating gesture. “Now, now. No need to threaten, brother. No need to lie either,” he lilted, shaking his head. “You’re right about one thing: sometimes the truth is oh so much better. Or worse. Depends on the perspective,” he shrugged.

“Michael,” Lucifer warned.

“Okay, fine. Your little vulnerability issues? What do you think that’s a product of?”

Lucifer gave an exasperated shrug and let his eyes extinguish. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, but I think you do… you see, you’re scared that Chloe will grow old, frail and die, just like little baby Charlie, right?”

Lucifer didn’t dignify him with a response, his temper rising again. Was this all he came here to say? Lucifer didn’t like to dwell on the inevitable, he lived in the moment.

“That face tells me you have. And I know you have. I can feel the fear rolling off you in waves, brother.”

“Fantastic to know your spidey senses are tingling, Michael,” Lucifer gritted his teeth, “But could you enlighten me as to when the part of your drivel becomes relevant to my life?”

Michael smirked, a foul thing on a face that should be as handsome as Lucifer’s own. “See, I could take that personally. But I won’t.” He leaned into Lucifer’s personal space, but Lucifer remained steady.

“Chloe made you feel more powerful, correct? You confessed your love or whatever,” Michael sneers, “But if you’re more powerful together than apart, then well. Something’s gotta give… and it looks like this time that was you, Lucifer.”

A piece clicked in Lucifer’s head. His mind raced. Michael was right. In fact, _Lucifer’s_ original theory was right. Every time that he had been invulnerable, the Detective was close by – when Daniel shot him, and even when he fought Michael and Maze. But what about the injection with the Whisper Killer? He was certainly vulnerable then. It didn't make any sense. Bloody hell, his stupid angelic biology was really throwing Lucifer for a loop – why couldn’t he have feelings without them manifesting into some celestial side effect? Or couldn't have Dad added some kind of handbook for this? _A Heavenly Guide to Self-Actualisation: Your Body and You._

Michael chuckled, bringing Lucifer back into the harsh reality of the moment.

“Tragic thing is, you’re still a celestial being. Even if, by some miracle,” Michael glanced upwards, “you manage to age and live a happy life with Chloe… she’s still gonna die, Lucifer.”

Lucifer felt his eyes turn a hot magma red. His chest heaved as his breaths became shallow and rapid.

Michael continued, despite all signs indicating he should stop, “And, where she’s going; you can’t follow- that’s was **_terrifies_** you, Lucifer… and it means I will _always_ win.”

In one rapid movement, Lucifer hooked his fingers into the junction of Michael’s crooked shoulder, pushing onto the fragile bundle of nerves. A rapid beeping noise echoed throughout the room, as Michael’s eyes slammed shut from anguish and grabbed onto Lucifer’s casted arm in response. Both twins shouted out with undecipherable noises of pain, which were barely interrupted by the banging of a door.

* * *

“I’m sorry, Detective Espinoza, but I can’t release medical information to you without a warrant, Mr Morningstar’s emergency contact present or without his express permission to do so.”

Georgie’s shift should have ended hours ago, but the other staff nurse had failed to show up on time, the vapid man. And now here she was, stuck with pointless questions from the police, when she should already have her wall painted, her feet up and Bailey’s chocolate in her hand.

The detective nodded in understanding, but while his facial expression was apologetic, it was also determined, indicating to Georgie that, actually, no, he was gonna push for some more information that she legally couldn’t give.

That was true at least until her pager went off, indicating that Mr Morningstar’s heart rate had gone through the roof. More concerned for her patient than the detective, she quickly shoved him aside, barking, “Herberts! With me, now!”

Luckily, his room wasn’t far away at all, she thought as she shoved the door open with some force. The distinct sound of agony hit her as soon as the door seal was broken, and she rammed into the room, disregarding the heavy footsteps Herberts and presumably the detective generated, in favour of trying to help her patient. 

Georgie was taken aback for half a second, as the source of Mr Morningstar’s elevated heart rate was a man that was his double, save for a scar. He was also extremely tall, and for 5ft 2” Houston, getting him to let go would be tricky. Fortunately for Mr Morningstar, Georgie was pissed.

She yanked the intruder’s arm and kicked the back of his knee with force, and by some miracle, she managed to budge him out of the line of fire of Mr Morningstar and discarded him on the floor.

The offender released a choked out laugh as soon as he was free, saying, “You better go check on that scientist friend of yours – Ella, I believe – caused a mess there,” which caused Mr Morningstar to roar and attempt to fling himself out of bed, and would’ve succeeded, were it not for Georgie shoving him back in.

Georgie turned around to deal with the scarred man, but he was gone. _What the fuck?_ She said the same out loud as she looked back at Mr Morningstar and the detective that had followed her in. So, it was unprofessional, sue her.

Mr Morningstar looked equally mystified, as well as furious, though Georgie was betting it was more to do with what the scarred man said than his sudden disappearance.

And where in the hell was Herberts? The shit she had to go through on a daily basis, honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick disclaimer: I don’t remember if Lucifer had already slept with Chloe when he’s injected with the paralytic agent since I’ve only watched series 5 once, and some of the details have gotten mixed in my head. If anyone remembers, please let me know! I want to stay within canon as much as possible, so it’d be great if I could ask some questions, so I don’t accidentally mess up the timeline :)
> 
> Also sorry for the cliffhanger again! This chapter almost hits 4k words, and it was the best place to finish off the POV. We get to see Ella next time though! And hopefully have some comfort after all the hurt she received in series 5. I'm a huge fan of writing her POV, so she'll definitely be showing up soon.
> 
> ***Edit 26/08/20: still working on chapter 4 unfortunately! It's being a real bugger :( BUT I have got a plan for at least another two chapters, however updates will be slower through trying to plan ahead (sorry everyone!)  
> ****Also a huge thank you to jamie_rose89 for informing me that Deckerstar had gotten together before the Whisper Killer drama! That paragraph addressing it has been adjusted accordingly :D


	4. looking for light - a love story by moth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn a bit more about Michael, and Ella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait on this chapter - it really didn't want to write itself this time! Hopefully the other chapters will come out a bit easier, but I'm not betting on it, so I am sorry if it takes a while to fully finish this fic. I do want to finish it though! 
> 
> Now that's out of the way, I'd like to thank you all again for your lovely comments, kudos and just love in general. Hearing what everyone has to say about the chapter (and even just the show!) fills me with joy :) 
> 
> This has not been beta read, and I haven't even read it through (since my eyes are super tired lol), so feel free to point out any mistakes to make a better reading experience for everyone!

When Michael first arrived on Earth, the stench nearly overwhelmed him. Disgusting, filthy humans with their dull mortal lives and insignificant problems. If it weren’t for Raphael and Remiel and all the rest of his numerous siblings crowing over Lucifer’s “sacrifice” and how “selfless” he was for returning to Hell to do his damn job, Michael would have never even considered leaving the great Silver City for pitiful Los Angeles. _The City of Angels._ His idle brother was never one for the finer subtleties. No wonder his rebellion had failed.

See, that’s where little Samael had gone wrong. Bold acts of violence and pathetic dreams of free will does not a successful rebellion make. Had Michael planned the rebellion himself - which he would have never done in the first place, not when he had Lucifer to screw everything up as usual, (and it goes without saying that Michael would never question the word of his father) - even the smallest, most intricate details would be considered.

Like right now.

In the false light of L.A.’s night, Michael had managed to knock out the first human passing by, stealing their clothes (jeans, a simple graphic shirt and trainers) and discarding his robe in the unsanitary alley way. A shame, certainly, but necessary all the same. Michael had observed the mortal creatures for the past earth hour, and from his sample, it appeared that most humans did not wander around in robe like garments, but instead in tight fabrics clearly designed to irritate the skin and provide no comfort from suffocating heat that arose from the Mojave desert.

The next step in Michael’s plan was to locate Lux. He knew this to be Lucifer’s home on Earth, having kept close tabs on his twin ever since the untimely destruction of Uriel.

The loss of Uriel had caused something to sit deep in Michael’s gut, especially since it had been his needling which had caused Uriel to pay a visit to Lucifer to return Mom to Hell. As always, his siblings continually failed to plan for every outcome, even Uriel, who could literally see the pattern of the future.

Disappointing, but not unexpected after millennia of the exact same thing. By luck - or more likely, by Dad’s interference - Lucifer continued to exist peacefully and without consequences. It caused Michael’s blood to boil.

He watched a human, female in appearance, climb into a moving object, and after stating a place name, it began to move at a rapid pace. Vehicles. Michael loathed these human contraptions, flying being the much-preferred method of travel, but he recognised the necessary compromise he had to make, considering he didn’t know L.A. like the back of his hand.

Confidently opening the back door of the next passing car, Michael climbed in, causing the human in the front seat to let out an ungainly wail.

“Ah! What the hell, man!” It shrieked at him. “Get outta my car!”

Ah. Michael quickly realised his error. It appeared that not every vehicle was subject to the whims of the passenger. The souls that arrived in the Silver City had not once explicitly told him this. Nevertheless, Michael could improvise. He didn’t have the same ability as his twin to allure the humans into completing whatever tasks he desired, but he could manipulate them to do what he wanted all the same.

“I don’t think you want me to do that,” Michael leaned in towards the front, catching the muddy brown eyes of his driver. “Now: tell me, what is it that you _fear_?”

A glazed look befell the human, their mouth falling into an unsightly gape.

“I... I- I’m scared that my girlfriend’s baby isn’t mine,” they said slowly, before shaking their head in confusion. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”

“I just have one of those faces,” Michael replied with the roll of his eyes. “Hey, here’s an idea- why don’t we go to Lux and forget all about your unfaithful girlfriend, huh?” 

“What? No!” Brown eyes responded, their thick eyebrows shooting upwards, almost meeting their receding hairline. “No, definitely not. I’m not cheating on my girlfriend- and besides, Lux is a prestigious club; no way am I getting in.”

Michael released a frustrated sigh. How Lucifer could bare to keep returning to Earth to escape Hell, when Hell was right here, Michael did not know.

“Look. Your girlfriend cheated on you. It’s obvious: there’s more trash in this car than in the sea,” he began, gesturing the copious number of take-out wrappers discarded on the floor of the car. “Your abysmal posture indicates you’ve probably been sleeping here, and there’s a can of deodorant that says you haven’t been home in at least a week. That relationship is over: you know it, I know it. Besides: it’s not like you _have_ to cheat on her by going to a nightclub.”

The man’s face dropped further and further as Michael spoke, his hard eyebrows furrowing into a look of contempt.

“Now, look here-“

“No. You look here. Here’s what you’re gonna do,” Michael grabbed the collar of the man’s stained polo shirt, and a flash of pure panic filled his features as the man realised he couldn’t pull away, “you’re going to drive to Lux. You’re going to have a great time and forget all about your woman troubles, got it?”

The man nodded rapidly, the stench of his unwashed breath hitting Michael as he panted, beads of sweat accumulating at his temples. “Y-yeah, okay, yeah.” Confusion fluttered over his features. “But how are we gonna even get in? Lux is exclusive!”

“Leave that to me,” Michael smirked, about to lean back into his seat, before stopping at the sight of a suspicious stain. He grimaced. “I know the owner.”

* * *

Michael had ditched Short, Disgusting and Grubby at the door, before a man with the name tag ‘Patrick’ letting him straight into the side door of Lux. Michael had gave a generic greeting in Lucifer’s accent and quickly straightened his shoulder back, twinges of discomfort hitting him in the lower back as he did so.

A cacophony of electric noise and people shouting smacked him in the face as soon as the door opened, a strange mix of scents filling his nostrils. So, this was Lux. Of course his narcissistic brother had named the nightclub after himself. How predictable.

A few patrons, likely regulars, slapped and patted his back and arms as he made his way to the darkened door at the top of the staircase. He unconsciously leaned into the softer touches, and flinched at the harder ones, meandering through the crowd as he hurried to his destination. Greetings to ‘Lucifer’ were called out as he went, that he acknowledged with the faint nod of his head, which rapidly satisfied the smiling faces.

Michael was relieved, yet strangely threnodic when he made it to the elevator entrance. He quickly climbed into the shaft once the doors had opened, breathed out a sigh as the music faded away, and closed his eyes for a moment’s peace.

A quiet ding brought him back alert again.

Stepping out into Lucifer’s apartment, Michael immediately noticed that the floors and furniture were spotless, especially the baby grand piano that took pride of place in the room. Either Lucifer had paid a cleaner, which had never been cancelled despite his absence, or a so-called friend of his had continued the service.

So, visitors were more than likely to occur. Michael saved this information for later - it looked like keeping up his Lucifer persona at all times was of the upmost importance. Michael was not his siblings: no detail so small was going to topple his plan before it even truly began.

Speaking of which. Michael wondered the apartment, perfecting the way he recollected Lucifer gracefully indolent saunter from when he was just Samael, the “perfect” son.

He quickly identified Lucifer’s closet, seemingly ordered by colour and convenience. This was likely the one area of Lucifer’s life which he planned to the same depth as Michael did. Recalling Lucifer’s most frequent combination of a white shirt, red pocket square, black jacket and slack, Michael hurriedly discarded the clothing he had traded for his robe earlier.

Now for his hair. Like most of the angels in the Silver City, Michael had left his hair natural (in recent years, souls from Earth arrived with new inventions such as instruments, entertainment, gels, devices and many other things, which his sibling Zadkiel was constantly enthralled with), but Lucifer was fond of taming the unruly curls both siblings shared.

He found the lacquer stored in the bathroom (amongst various other tubes and tools which Michael did not want to touch with a ten-foot pole), and quickly set to combing his hair just so. Time was of the essence.

Costume complete, Michael wondered throughout Lucifer’s penthouse and located his phone, apparently discarded in his haste to return to Hell. Perfect. All the numbers Michael required for communication were stored and it took him little less than two minutes to find a certain Chloe Decker’s information.

Michael hesitated; his finger primed over the call button. From a little harmless stalking of Lucifer and the detective he had conducted while in the Silver City, he knew it that Chloe was likely to answer her phone if Lucifer came calling. Lucifer, being the overdramatic soul that he was, would not choose to have a reunion over the phone. He’d want it big, over-the-top and in person.

Changing his plan, Michael placed a call to the personal line of the LAPD.

“Los Angeles Police Department, Officer Davis speaking.”

Michael twisted his neck from side to side, before saying languidly, “Hello Maggie, it’s me, Lucifer. Do you have Detective Decker’s current location?”

“Lucifer! It’s so good to hear from you, I’ve been meaning to thank you for buying the department a new coffee machine, I’ve really-“

“Yes! It was no trouble, really,” Michael interrupted impatiently, “Now… about Detective Decker’s whereabouts…?”

A short laugh escaped Officer Davis, “Oh sorry, of course! Just need her badge number for conformation, Lucifer. You know the drill.”

“Yes, yes, right.” See this was why Michael calculated for every aspect of Lucifer’s life, “it’s six-four-nine-five-three.”

“Okay…” sounds of typing could be heard over the phone. “…Yep, she’s with the victim’s relative according to the report, heading towards Wellesley Avenue in the Northeast district.”

“That’s perfect, thank you Maggie.”

“Anytime for you, Lucifer!”

Michael hung up the phone with a smirk. Time to go see one Chloe Decker.

* * *

“What do you fear most in this world?”

Ella laughed, her eyes flitting between the two massive wings that encapsulated her vision, completely ignoring Michael’s question and eye-contact.

“Yo, you really had me going for a second there, dude!” she chuckled, hitting him on the shoulder.

Michael blinked, his jaw slack. _Did he just break this human?_ He knew their minds were fragile, but he had never had this reaction before. Granted, he hadn’t met many alive humans, with what being in the Silver City for most of his existence and all, but even the dead ones had been forced to answer his question. Perhaps a delayed reaction?

“What? You didn’t think I’d get it this quickly did you?” Ella continued, oblivious to Michael’s introspection. “I’m gonna have to admit, the whole ‘grr, I’m not Lucifer,’ had me worried, but dude, you’ve got to work on your evil line delivery. Saw right through it.” The human mimed slicing her hand with the side of her other hand, but then paused, seemingly taking Michael’s non-reaction as offence.

“Aw, sorry Luce. Was this supposed to be your new persona? It was wasn’t it, and I completely ruined it. Hey man, you can still keep your Devil shtick, just because Diablo got the role and you didn’t, doesn’t mean there won’t be other roles – niche character, for sure – but you could make it work!”

Michael was very confused.

“I’m not Lucifer.”

“I know, buddy,” she said sympathetically with a wink and the nudge of her elbow into Michael’s side. “How’d you get those wings to come out so quickly, huh? Some kind of hydraulic release mechanism, or what?”

“What?” Michael shrugged his wings away, feeling strangely vulnerable once the attention had been brought to them.

“Woah! No way, that’s so cool!” Ella tried to walk around Michael to view his back, but he turned as well, to keep facing her. “Okay, I get it, trade secret- no biggie.”

Michael had not planned for this.

*

Ella was impressed. With Lucifer around, the detailed scarring, wings and all the rest, it was going to make winning the precinct’s Halloween competition impossible this year. Dude really had it planned out. No way Ella could compete on her budget.

Then again, maybe this was all part of Lucifer’s project to knock Ella out of her depression pit. Ella was seriously touched at all the effort he had put in for her. She could even say reluctantly that it worked. For those few seconds she was scared for her life, before realising that this was _Lucifer, duh_ , she had forgotten all about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Man, Lucifer was such an unconventional friend, but he really knew how to make her laugh even on the bad days (and this had been an _exceptionally_ bad couple of days).

Kind of like Rae Rae.

With a burst of affection for her friend (and gloom for her long-lost ghost friend), Ella gripped Lucifer into another tight hug, which at first, he began to strain against with an alarmed sound before sighing succumbing to the Lopez Special. Ella's arms didn't even reach all the way around him.

“Thanks for coming by, Lucifer,” she mumbled into his wide chest, her glasses smushed against her forehead. “I really needed that.”

Lucifer hesitantly patted the top of her head, “Anytime, Ms Lopez.” His accent was still American affected, she noticed, but shrugged it off as one of Lucifer’s new quirks.

“Hey,” she said, pulling back from the hug. “Since you’re here, why don’t we get out the popcorn and watch a movie, huh? I’ll even let you choose!”

Ella felt slightly guilty for using Lucifer for the movie choice, especially since it was only because she couldn’t decide on anything else, but she thought the guy looked kinda lonely, probably because Chloe had to go collect Trixie or something. The thought of Trixie being left alone at Penelope Decker’s while her mother was missing caused Ella’s shoulders to slump again. She couldn’t believe that someone had taken sweet, intelligent Chloe as a target, or that Ella had been a target herself.

As if sensing Ella’s spiralling, Lucifer picked up a movie from her Disney collection and tentatively waved it with the smallest of smiles. With a subdued nod, Ella took the disc from out of its sleeve and inserted it into her old DVD player.

“I’ll make the popcorn; you skip the ads?”

Lucifer nodded, with a slightly befuddled look on his face. He must have been thinking about Chloe too.

While in a deep delve into her kitchen cupboards to locate a box of dusty popcorn, Ella called out to Lucifer, "Okay, you have like three minutes to hide your Halloween gear!" which was shortly followed by a loud bang and swearing from the living room. After setting the popcorn to go in the microwave and digging out the salt and butter, Ella looked on amusedly at Lucifer’s attempts to work the old DVD player. Clearly owning the most expensive gadgets in the world meant that Lucifer sucked at using older equipment.

Alerted to the microwave’s beeping, Ella grabbed the bag (and poked at it with instant regret, burning her fingers), and the associated condiments, then made her way back into the open living room, where Lucifer was stood right in front of the TV, repeatedly bashing the remote into his hand. Ella made quick work to set the bowl of popcorn down and stole the remote back, quickly skipping the compulsory adverts before the opening title screen came on. When she turned back to the couch, Lucifer had apparently decided to dig into the popcorn, smacking his lips together as if to contemplate the taste better.

Ella raised her eyebrows but unwilling to break the rare bout of comfortable silence, she didn’t say anything and gestured to the couch, which Lucifer complied to wordlessly.

* * *

A repeated banging at the door startled Ella awake, not even aware that she had fallen asleep at some point during the movie. A blanket was draped over her legs and torso, but there was no sign of Lucifer anywhere, no sign he had even been here in the first place, were it not for the popcorn strewn about the floor. (They had both gotten bored in the middle of the movie and decided to throw popcorn into each other’s mouths, after making a blanket fort in the middle of the living room, at Ella’s request).

The sound of knocking continued.

“Miss Lopez!” Lucifer shouted on the other side of the door. “Please shout if you’re alive, or I will be breaking this door down!”

“Alive! Alive, Lucifer!” Ella quickly replied, stumbling slightly as she fell over a couch cushion on her way to the door. She did not have the cash to spare for a new one if Lucifer really did break it. He must have gone to go get something, or to see Chloe, before realising he’d get locked out once he left.

She threw open the door, only to be welcomed by the sight of a very different Lucifer. Seriously? The guy didn’t stop. Not only was his Posh British ManTM accent back in full force, but he was missing the scar and instead had a cast on his arm, and oh yeah, a _cane_.

“Miss Lopez!” Lucifer exclaimed, eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline as he pushed his way into the small apartment, swizzeling his head back and forth.

“Lucifer!” Ella replied, equally as dramatic. “Did you leave something earlier?”

Lucifer ignored her, and began tearing apart the place, lifting the cushions and opening the door to her room and bathroom. Ella raised a finger to question his actions when Chloe walked through the door, Trixie in tow.

“Hey, Ella.” Chloe greeted calmly, a sharp contrast to Lucifer’s noisy grumbling.

“Uh, hey?” Ella replied absently, looking back at Lucifer, who’d suddenly appeared to be stood right next to her.

“Was Michael here?” Lucifer asked with an alarmed expression, grabbing the top of her arms.

Ella cracked a laugh, “Oh, man! You’re a hoot!” Ella sobered and patted Lucifer back, “Yes, _Michael_ was here.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened comically, “Oh bolloc-“

“Lucifer!” Chloe admonished, lifting her hands over Trixie’s young ears, who just looked happy to be involved.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but my _psycho twin_ was apparently here!” Oh yes, a twin! Classic. “Who knows what earth-shattering revelations he could’ve dropped on poor Miss Lopez!”

“She looks perfectly fine to me,” Chloe retorted pointedly, looking over to Ella.

“Yes, but so did you Detective,” Lucifer answered emphatically, “and look how that one turned out for me.”

Oh, no: Deckerstar domestic! And in front of the children!

“Uh, hi- yeah, totally fine over here… well, maybe a little depressed considering the one time I think I have a good guy, that he actually turns out to be a crazy, psychotic, serial killer with mommy-issues, and this means that I’ll never know true love because I’m forever destined to bring darkness into my life through bad boys and poor decision making…” Ella’s throat had become thick with tears before she cleared her throat, “but yeah. Other than that, I’m- good. Totally good.”

“Aw babe,” Chloe tucked Ella into her shoulder, rubbing her arm slowly. Lucifer looked similarly affected, his eyebrows drawn into a pensive expression.

“I am truly sorry to hear that Miss Lopez,” he began, “they deserve to rot in Hell for what they did to you. I’ll see to it personally.”

Ella let out an embarrassed laugh. It seemed the Devil persona was back in full force.

“But I do need to ask you,” Lucifer said softly, “what did my brother do, when he was here?”

“You can drop the act now, Lucifer. You made me laugh,” Ella asked, confused.

“No, really, Ella. He has a twin brother named Michael,” Chloe clarified.

Holy _shit_. Lucifer’s parents must have really been some messed up people to name them like that. At the same time, something else occurred to Ella.

“Hang on. You’re telling me,” she took the slipper off her foot and raised it threateningly, “that I let a random man into my house, shared popcorn, watched Disney and I fell asleep on him, and that guy wasn’t you- but your _twin_ _brother?!”_

Lucifer tucked his hands into his pockets, hunched his posture, and answered with a reluctant, “Yes?”

“Lucifer!” A flurry of furious Spanish flew out of Ella’s mouth (even she didn’t know what she was saying at this point) while she wacked him with the slipper, which caused Lucifer to flinch and Trixie to release a nervous giggle. 

“Okay,” Chloe raised her hands, palms facing outwards in a gesture of calm, “The good thing is that no one got hurt, right?”

The detective looked between her and Lucifer, eyes begging for peace. Ella acquiesced, letting the slipper fall out of her fingers and land on the floor in a sad slump.

“Alright, but I really mean it this time when I say _no_ _más_ of that _mierda_ , okay?” Ella said seriously to Lucifer. He nodded in response, gulping a breath.

“God, I cannot believe that you had a twin brother and never told me! Seriously, not cool Luce.” So, maybe Ella was still a little angry. She was stilling struggling to believe that his apparent brother Michael hadn’t even attempted to stop Ella’s cuddling attempts. In hindsight, the _lack_ of struggle should’ve given away it wasn’t Lucifer. Dude was touch starved. It was kinda sad.

“Oh, man!” Ella said, alarmed. “That means you really were in the hospital- are you okay?”

“Well-“

“-He’s fine.” Chloe interjected, voice sounding over Lucifer’s. “Just a broken arm, we’re lucky. It could’ve been way worse.”

Ella nodded; eyebrows drawn up in concern. “Damn, sorry about hitting you Lucifer. That wasn’t right.” She pulled him into a hug, apparently the first one he’d received off her today.

“Perfectly alright, Miss Lopez,” he pulled his arms up, then flailed them around his sides, before his hands came to settle on her shoulders to push Ella away, the hard material of his cast slightly uncomfortable against her. “All is forgiven.”

“Yeah, well. I’m gonna be having words with your brother next time I see him.”

“Hopefully, for all our sake’s, there won’t be a next time.”

A sigh in the background could be heard as Chloe answered the buzzing of her phone, Trixie glued to her side.

“Hey, Lucifer?” Ella began, looking up at him.

“Yes, Miss Lopez?”

“Don’t be too hard on your brother. He seemed like he needed a friend too.”

Lucifer scoffed, “If only that was all he wanted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not saying they watched The Hunchback of Notre Dame (but Michael would’ve totally chosen that).
> 
> \---
> 
> Is this going to be a Michaella fic? I have no clue. Depends on what the people want (that's you guys) ;) Also please leave me your theories in the comments! They're so fun to read :D
> 
> \---  
> That really is Chloe's badge number! When she and Lucifer hold up their badges, her number is visible. Now we don't have to go by her bra size the entire time.
> 
> Edit 28/08/20:   
> *Added some extra details and lines (curtesy of the lovely Vincent!) to fill in some plot holes.  
> ** People really like the idea of Michaella! Considering I don't know how long this fic will actually end up will depend on whether they'll get their lovin' on, but definitely consider this fic pre-relationship Michaella at a minimum :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully it wasn't rubbish :)
> 
> The title isn't relevant to anything in this story, I just really hate moths.


End file.
